


play a supercut of us

by softlees



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Platonic Relationships, Slice of Life, boochan protection squad, chan is a lil loving shit, fond!boo, i just. adore their dynamic so much, i'm just !!! really in love w maknae line, probably??? will be a compilation of their adventures, really - Freeform, they deserve to be written more, vern is confused but must protect him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees/pseuds/softlees
Summary: Chan’s always had a penchant for bringing in strays. Seungkwan’s always had an affinity for keeping them around.(somehow, the universe brings them hansol vernon chwe. seungkwan and chan's lives will never be the same. and maybe that's the best thing about it.)





	play a supercut of us

**Author's Note:**

> big big thank you to the mods of snowflower for organizing this ficfest!! the maknae line deserves a LOT of love n i'm glad i was able to write this for them, albeit a little late to the party !!! 
> 
> i am , admittedly, a big fan of platonic relationships and although this really has no semblance of plot as of yet, i just wanted to write slice of life/college life!roommates seungkwan + chan adopting vern & integrating him into their lives & becoming an infamous trio tbh,,, very much self-indulgent
> 
> thank u for reading this if u even get this far wahoo
> 
> (( title from lorde's supercut ))

Seungkwan is only mildly surprised when Chan comes home one night, hair absolutely drenched and ratty white t-shirt soaked all the way through, a human being in tow. 

 

This isn’t unnormal. His roommate has a soft spots for strays, oddly enough, despite projecting a manly persona that tends to help him exude a dickish atmosphere to those who aren’t willing to take the time to get to know him. 

 

Defense mechanism, Chan claims. 

 

Seungkwan calls it being emotionally constipated.

 

“Dinner’s in the microwave,” Seungkwan says, and returns promptly to his gossip magazine. He really should be outlining his essay for his philosophy class, but it technically isn’t due until tomorrow, at 11:55 PM, so he figures he’s got some time. Due tomorrow,  _ do _ tomorrow, after all - his life motto since he’s gotten into college, thanks to some seniors he will not name because his mom would probably hunt them down and skin them alive for teaching her “precious baby boy” such poor habits.

 

“What’s for dinner?” Chan asks, placing his keys on the counter. 

 

“Takeout.” Seungkwan says, eyes briefly drifting over to the newcomer. He’s handsome, he guesses, in a classic American way; easily protruding cheekbones with nicely defined eyebrows and pretty, long lashes. He looks like he’s just stepped right out of a movie, one of those old-timey American cinemas that Seungkwan secretly has an affinity for. 

 

Chan crinkles his nose in Seungkwan’s periphery. He turns back to look at his roommate, eyebrow raised. “You can starve, if that’s what you’d prefer.”   
  


“Nope!” Chan chirps, leaning over to give Seungkwan a smacking kiss on the cheek. “That sounds delicious, thank you so much, I love you, you’re the best, and I will treasure this friendship forever.”

 

Seungkwan laughs, rolling his eyes affectionately as he wipes the drool away from his face. “Kissass.”

 

The sound of microwave being turned on is his only answer. Chan takes off his jacket and runs a hand through his wet hair, mussing it up, while the creaky old machine works doubly hard to heat up the container of takeout. He quickly ushers the other boy into a chair, and tells him that he’ll grab something for him to change into, sliding quickly down the hall.

  
“That’s my room,” Seungkwan idly calls out as Chan ducks into the first room on the left. 

 

“I know,” Chan says cheekily. Seungkwan knows that there’s a smile blossoming there without having to see the little shit’s face. “Your clothes are probably going to fit him better than mine ever will. Thanks for offering, hyung!”

 

Seungkwan takes this moment to size up their visitor again. He is looking everywhere but at Seungkwan. If it it were anyone else, Seungkwan thinks it could be considered offensive, but, he is confident enough in his natural looks to think otherwise.

 

The boy looks anxious, damp hair sticking and curling around the back of his nape, giant hoodie swallowing his fidgeting hands whole. He looks like he doesn’t want to be. Here, there,  _ anywhere _ , really. And Seungkwan understands that. 

 

He hums. “Rough night?”

 

“Yeah,” their visitor mutters, hand flying to the back of his neck. “It’s been … something else.”

 

“Ah, so he speaks!” Seungkwan smiles, the apples of his cheeks peeking out, placing his magazine down. Cosmo’s  _ 10 Must-See Tips to Keeping Your Boyfriend Impressed With You! _ can wait. Seungkwan doesn’t even have a boyfriend to impress anyways. 

 

“What’s your name?” Seungkwan asks kindly, voice soft and low. 

 

“Hansol.” He says, quickly recovering. “But I go by Vernon. Sometimes. Most of the time. I think.”

 

“Mm.” Seungkwan lets out another little hum from the back of his throat. “Well, which do you prefer?”

 

It’s at this the boy starts, like he isn’t used to being asked. He furrows his brows, and moves his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. As if he himself is still unsure. 

 

Seungkwan can feel his curiosity skyrocket, the urge to pick and peel away at layers until something tangible and wholly Hansol-but-also-Vernon pops into grasp.  

 

“Stop being a nosy wart.” Chan comes up behind him, flicking Seungkwan on the head with his own sweater, pilfered from his own room. Seungkwan feels betrayal on several magnitudes. 

 

“I was just asking him where he’d come from!” He whines, rubbing his temple. “You fucker.” Seungkwan looks up at Chan, pout already forming. “That hurt like a bitch. Did Wonwoo teach you how to do that?”

 

Chan smiles sweetly at Seungkwan but doesn’t elaborate any further, sliding the pile of clothes across the table. “Here, Vern, change into these. Take a shower if you need to. Bathroom’s down the hall. Your first right.”

 

“Thank you,” Vernon says, voice a bit rough around the edges. He gets up, shuffling down the hall, but his shoulders are hunched, small, and he looks very exhausted all of a sudden. There’s something that swells in Seungkwan’s chest, a yearning beginning to unfurl. He doesn’t know what it is just yet. Consider his curiosity piqued.

 

The door shuts, and Seungkwan hears the rattling of the pipes as water runs through them in the ceiling, an indication that Vernon’s taken him up on the offer and has turned on the shower as prompted. 

 

He looks at Chan, who’s settled down with his takeout and happily plowing into it, with no further explanation about the boy currently in their bathroom. 

 

“Wharf?” Chan asks, mouth full, pieces of rice falling out. 

 

“Care to explain, Mr. Lee?” Seungkwan asks, eyebrow raised, gesturing towards the hall. “Why, mayhaps, is there a stranger currently using our facilities at this moment in time?”

 

Chan crinkles his nose. “Stop talking like that. You’ve been hanging out with Mingyu hyung too much, haven’t you? Old farts.” He spills a piece of katsu chicken on the table, but quickly swoops it up with his chopsticks, shoving it into his mouth.    
  


Seungkwan tosses a napkin at him. “We’re only, like, a year older than you, you know.”

 

Chan turns serious. “A year is a long time, Seungkwan. One year. Three hundred and sixty five days. People can conceive and have babies in a year. People can —“

 

“Shut up, buttface. I hate it when you logic things out on me.”

 

“Never.” Chan says, sticking out his tongue.He gets a balled up napkin to the face this time for his troubles. 

 

“Anyways…?” Seungkwan prompts him, question lingering in the air. “Where’d you find a boy like Vern wandering the streets at-” He looks at the rickety clock hanging up on the wall, right next to the refrigerator. “- ten o’clock at night?”

 

Chan shoves the last bit of the rice into his mouth, and wipes his mouth, tiny grin spreading across his face as he lets out a satisfied sigh at annihilating the dish. Seungkwan gives him a Look. Chan returns it, eyebrows raised and mouth defiant.

 

Seungkwan is the first to break. “Wow,” he huffs out a laugh. “You’ve become immune to the Kwan glare. Congratulations.”

 

“I’ve learnt from the best,” Chan grins cheekily, referring to a junior Seungkwan’s age, a psych major named Lee Seokmin, whom they’ve gotten quite close with over the course of their college years. The three of them are as thick as thieves, having had several classes together and suffered through several cleanup sessions after particularly raging parties that their senior friend Kwon Soonyoung likes to throw.

 

Nothing gets friendship going like the mutual pain of having to shovel barf off a molding bathroom floor. Fun times.

 

“I’m going to find Seokmin and I’m going to maim him,” Seungkwan narrows his eyes, and shakes his fist at Chan. “You’re a baby, stop learning bad things from your hyungs. They keep corrupting you.”

 

“Stop it with this baby stuff,” Chan rolls his eyes. “I’m turning twenty this year.”

 

“Aw, that’s cute,” Seungkwan coos at him, reaching over to pinch his cheeks. “You think just because you’re a year older you’re no longer a baby? You’re always going to be my little dongsaeng, my little honeybun, my precious -”

 

“Stop it!” Chan laughs, batting away Seungkwan’s hands. “You always lay it on too thick.”

 

Seungkwan snorts, settling back into his chair. “Who do you think I learned it from?” 

 

Chan shoots him a cheeky grin in response, batting his eyes innocently. “Oh gosh, I don’t know. Who could’ve taught you such a thing?”

 

They both chuckle softly at that, letting the comment linger in the air. The quiet looms over them for a moment as the pipes stop their grumbling, signifying that their guest is done showering. 

 

“He was sitting at the bus stop, you know, the one that shut down?” Chan says, by way of explanation, without much preamble. Seungkwan thinks this is the thing that he appreciates about the other boy the most. Chan is very much quick and straight to the point and wanting to get things over with. Abrupt. Blunt. In the best way. 

 

“It was raining, and I asked him if he knew that the buses never made it out here anymore. He said yeah, but didn’t move, and he looked so  _ heartbroken _ , Kwannie.” Chan looks up at Seungkwan, face helpless. “I couldn’t just leave him there.”

 

“Aw,” Seungkwan says, leaning back on his chair and pointing at him triumphantly. “You  _ do _ care.”

 

“Shut up,” Chan grumbles, crossing his arms. “Of course I do. What was I gonna do? Just leave him there?”

 

“Some people would have,” Seungkwan says, matter of factly. “But not you.”

 

“Yeah,” Chan sighs. “I guess.”

 

“It’s not a bad thing, you know, Channie.” Seungkwan smiles softly, reaching over to pat him on the cheek, just before the door opens. “You’ve got a good heart. People like that are hard to find.”

 

Chan just looks back at him, eyes heavy, heart heavier, a remnant of a memory still raw and aching and open. Seungkwan knows, without either of them having to say a thing. Perhaps it’s a side effect of knowing each other, of occupying nearly the same pocket of the universe for so long; whatever it is, the words unspoken rise and coil between them, okay with staying hidden for the time being. 

 

Seungkwan knows what Chan was about to say anyways. He always does. Perks of being best friends since they were in diapers. 

 

He rises to greet Vernon with a forced smile. “It’s late. Why don’t you take a seat on the couch? Chan’ll grab you the spare blankets and you can sleep there for the night.”

 

Vernon opens his mouth, like he’s finally decided on what he wants to say after mulling it over in the shower, but Seungkwan shakes his head. 

 

“You don’t have to explain,” he shrugs. “You just looked like you needed someone.” He looks at Chan, who offers back a tired smile. “Or some _ ones _ ,” he amends. 

 

“I- thank you.” Vernon stumbles over the words, but the gratitude swells in between every syllable, unerringly honest and raw in its magnitude.

 

“Don’t mention it.” Chan says, rummaging around the closet, before settling on a set and tossing it at Vernon. “It’s really no big deal. I just hope that whatever you’re going through will pass. You’ll be alright.”

 

Vernon hums absentmindedly, an odd mixture of affirmation and a desire to say more. Seungkwan can see him sifting carefully through his words before he releases them into the air. 

 

He settles on another hasty “Thank you,” this time, and that’s that. Seungkwan turns off the lights, wishing Chan and Vernon a good night with a dramatic trill of his husky vocals. Chan’s familiar resounding laugh echoes through the thin walls, joined by a new lower, throaty chuckle.

 

Seungkwan smiles as he tumbles into his own bed and headfirst into a dream. He’s got a nice laugh, that Vernon boy. 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

Seungkwan wakes up to the smell of something cooking.

 

“Mmf,” he says, blearily rubbing his eyes as he pads out of his room and into the kitchen, “this is new.”

 

“Oh, hey,” Vernon says, shy, apron tied around his midriff. Seungkwan didn’t think they even owned an apron. Well. You learn new things everyday, he supposes. 

 

There’s a spatula in Vernon’s hand and something mouth-wateringly delicious cooking on the stove, a tuft of hair sticking up at the back of his head, like he hadn’t bothered taming it so early in the morning. It’s  _ cute _ .  _ He’s _ cute.

 

“Hey yourself,” Seungkwan grins, pointedly ignoring the fluttery feeling in his chest. 

 

Vernon yawns, blinking soft and slow. “I woke up early, and decided to make breakfast. It’s the least I can do, after last night. You like your eggs over easy or sunny side up?”

 

“Neither.” Seungkwan grimaces, tasting his morning breath, and keeps his distance, praying that Vernon won’t be able to smell it from where he is. “Scrambled, please.” 

 

“And Chan too?” 

 

“Nah, he likes it over easy,” Seungkwan says, shuffling past Vernon to their equally creaky coffee machine and pouring them both mugs. He rattles around their threadbare kitchen, a little self-conscious at the lack of utensils - he and Chan have inhabited the apartment for nearly a year now, but they’ve yet to truly make it their own, the problem of being two broke college kids who barely have the funds to pick up take out every now and then - but sets the table anyway, fishing a third fork out of the dishwasher for their guest.

 

Seungkwan is suddenly struck by how oddly domestic this is, how easily Vernon fits into his and Chan’s kitchen, how  _ not _ out of place the other boy looks, despite his never having been here before. Instead, he says, loudly, because he hears Chan thudding into kitchen behind him (for a dancer, the other boy isn’t as light on his feet as he should be), “Do you need a place to stay? I’d kick Chan to the curb for you in a heartbeat, if you keep making breakfast. I’ll just change the name on the lease, our manager wouldn’t really know.”

 

“Jerk,” Chan says, jostling into him intentionally. Seungkwan sticks out a tongue. Chan steals Seungkwan’s cup of coffee from him as retribution, flicking Seungkwan’s wrist with sharp fingers when he tries to steal it back.

 

“Ow,” Seungkwan complains. He looks at Vernon plaintively. “Do you see this? This is abuse, at its finest. Call the cops, Vernon. I’m being attacked in my own home.”

 

“Don’t call the cops,” Chan says exasperatedly, when Vernon moves to fish his cell out of his pocket, eyes wide and curious. “Seungkwan’s just being a dramatic asshole.” At this he pointedly glares at Seungkwan, which, okay, is warranted. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t wound him a little bit. “As usual.”

 

“Okay,” Seungkwan says, voice dripping with hurt, “ _ ow _ . Channie, I’ve raised you like my own son, after all these years, and you treat me like this?”

 

“Again, with this raising thing. You didn’t actually give birth to me, you know.” Chan throws up his hands in exasperation, but Seungkwan can tell between an Angry Chan and one who is simply Amused. This one is leaning towards the latter. 

 

He turns to Vernon, and whispers not-so-quietly, shaking his head as if to shame Chan, “This kid. He doesn’t even know that I popped him out of my very loins. He is, indeed, the fruit of my looms.”

 

This surprises a laugh out of Vernon, which in turn surprises a laugh out of Seungkwan, because he firmly believes that laughter is something to be shared. Chan joins in with a spluttering protest that quickly turns into his familiar  _ HA HA HA _ s that Seungkwan’s come to love. And suddenly they’re all a bit too busy clutching their stomachs to further continue conversation, even if it really wasn’t all that funny in the first place. 

 

It’s the early morning. It doesn’t have to make sense. Human brain function tends to be impaired at this time. Seungkwan’s is, anyways. He’s never fully there mentally unless he’s got a double shot espresso in his veins, or unless it’s noon time, whichever comes first. 

 

Neither of the three notice the eggs burning on the stove.

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

Seungkwan makes the executive decision to call a breakfast service to deliver food, mainly because he and Chan have zero culinary skill and are a danger to the kitchen, rather than the other way around. 

 

(If you ask Chan though, they’re calling a service that they really have no business calling, considering how low on funds they are, because Seungkwan had squawked as soon as the fire alarm went off, nearly hitting his head on the tabletop counter, and had become opposed to any other forms of exercise for the rest of day. But, of course, despite this being Chan’s house as well - he’s paying half the rent, and his name’s on the lease - no one asks him. Seungkwan makes sure of that.)

 

“It’s my cheat day,” Seungkwan says, placing an ice pack on Vernon’s cheek, which had become a casualty to Seungkwan’s flailing.

 

Chan snorts. “Every day is cheat day with you.”

 

“That is true, yes.” Seungkwan’s bottom lip sticks out as he worries about Vernon, hands fluttering. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Vernon says, chuckling, hands coming about to circle around Seungkwan’s wrist. “It’s all good, don’t worry!”

 

Seungkwan fumes. “It is not  _ alright _ , I nearly took out your eye!”

 

Vernon just shrugs. “You only live once, right?”

 

Chan laughs brightly as Seungkwan gapes. He can feel the years shedding off his life expectancy as Vernon sits there, in his kitchen, wholly unaffected by the  _ garbage _ that’s just slipped out his mouth. 

 

“You take that back.”

 

“What,” Vernon asks blankly. “YOLO?”

 

“Oh god,” Seungkwan moans, fingers clutching at his face. “If I hadn’t just whacked you in the face, I think I would’ve thrown you out on the street by now.”

 

“Why?” Vernon tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing, and Seungkwan bites his lip to include,  _ well, that, and if you weren’t so cute, too _ . His self-control has only strengthened over the years from pining over dreamy stars on the television, and so the words don’t ever make their way out of his mouth. He personally thanks Lee Dong-wook for this, and slants a quick prayer heavenwards. 

 

“It’s because Seungkwan’s an old fart,” Chan says matter-of-factly, nodding gravely. Vernon takes it as if everything out of Chan’s mouth is law, hanging on loyally to every word, letting out a small “ah” of understanding. Seungkwan is torn between wanting to coddle Vernon further and smacking him upside the head.

 

_ You fool!  _ he wants to shake the other boy’s shoulders.  _ Never listen to what Chan has to say, that traitorous bastard! He is the bane of my existence! _

 

He is also Seungkwan’s closest friend, so he wonders what that says about the kind of person he is. The kind of people he and Chan are. Seungkwan chooses not to think about it too much. 

 

“That’s not it at all,” Seungkwan says instead, except it comes off a bit pouty and a lot bit whiny.

 

“You sure?” Chan teases, yelping when Seungkwan grabs the spatula and brandishes it threateningly at him. 

 

“If not for the laws of this land,” Seungkwan growls, smile threatening to spill over, “I would have slaughtered you by now, Lee Chan.”

 

There’s a brisk knock at the door, and Chan takes his opportune moment to hide behind Vernon, who immediately throws his hands up in surrender.

 

“You’re lucky,” Seungkwan sheathes his weapon, eyes narrow. “The gods have spared you today. Use this life well, you foolish mortal.”

 

He goes to unlock the door, paying with a simpering smile and a sugary sweet wave, the urge to maim his flatmate nowhere to be seen on his face. Those $20 acting classes Seokmin begged him to take so that Seokmin could get closer to his crush (a sweet boy named Joshua) really have paid off.

 

“Is he always like this?” he can hear Vernon ask, whispering in a not-so-whispery way.

 

“Yep,” Chan says, popping the ‘p’, not at all hesitating. He cowers only slightly when Seungkwan whips his head around to send him a withering glare. Seungkwan silently commends him in his head, giving him props for that. Good. He still knows his place in the Boo-Lee apartment hierarchy. 

 

“It’s a good thing,” Chan hastily amends, and this is where a bit of honesty drips into his voice, raw, “I can’t imagine life without Seungkwan, honestly. We’ve been best friends since forever, he and I.”

 

“Really?” Vernon says. Seungkwan imagines a smile on his face, because he sounds amused. Seungkwan has a knack for picking these kinds of things out. He’s the people’s people person. 

 

“Yeah,” Chan pauses for a bit. “He’s the best person I know.”

 

“Ah,” is all that Vernon says, and it sounds a bit wistful. Something in his heart twists, yearns to hold the two boys in his kitchen close to his chest and to tell the world to get away from the both of them. It becomes a bit too cruel at times. 

 

“Sir?” the boy says shuffling from foot to foot sheepishly. “The waffles? It’s going to be twenty five seventeen.” 

 

“Oh!” Seungkwan startles. “Sorry about that.” He pays with a ten and a twenty, and tells him to keep the change, sighing happily as the smell of delicious breakfast food wafts up from the plastic bags. 

 

Seungkwan knows how uncomfortable Chan can get when discussing Feelings, so he pretends that he didn’t hear their conversation and shoves a stack of waffles in Chan’s and Vernon’s direction with the brightest smile on his face.

 

“Eat up, buttercups. Breakfast is served.”

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

Hunger is a particularly good motivator, Seungkwan thinks, as the battlefield lies spread out before him on their kitchen table, bodies of pancake stacks lying decimated on the rickety wood surface.

 

Chan pats his stomach pleasingly, and lets out a loud burp. Vernon follows suit, and for some reason, with a sudden narrowing of the eyes, firm set of the chins, and it turns into this burping contest that ends with a particularly loud belch from Vernon that nearly bowls Seungkwan over in its magnitude. 

 

Chan physically bows down to Vernon, in the middle of their kitchen, while the other boy prances around, crowing victory. Seungkwan wouldn’t know why. He refuses to partake in their primitive rituals, feeling his brain cells shrink just by watching them do their thing. 

 

He sighs, rubbing his temples. It’s probably too early for a drink.

 

“You guys are absolutely disgusting,” Seungkwan says, tone of voice indicating that he finds it anything but. 

 

“I know,” Chan grins, sticky fingers coming to pinch Seungkwan’s cheeks, “that’s why you love us so.”

 

“Debatable,” Seungkwan grumbles, jerking away from the dirty abominations, and stands up to gather their dirty containers, tossing them under the sink into the trash.

 

By the time he’s finished everything, he finds Vernon chewing on his nails, staring at his phone. Seungkwan resists all urges to bat his hand away from his mouth, his mother’s stern voice echoing in his head (“Seungkwan _ ,  _ if you don’t stop biting at your nails, I  _ will _ chop your fingers off for you.”) and instead watches as a bunch of emotions flit across his face. 

 

Angry, worried, heartbreakingly sad — Seungkwan marvels at just how well Vernon wears all of them. 

 

He leans, elbows on the counter, as Chan sidles up next to him, dish towel in his hand.

 

“I’m worried about him,” Chan whispers, like Seungkwan isn’t. 

 

“Me too,” Seungkwan whispers back, just to have some sort of vocal affirmation. They already both can feel the mother hen in them brewing, urge to smooth Vernon’s features over and to protect him from whatever’s making him feel this conflicted. Chan’s always had a penchant for bringing in strays. Seungkwan’s always had an affinity for keeping them around. 

 

“Do you need to go somewhere?” Seungkwan asks gently. 

 

Vernon startles, nearly dropping his phone. “Huh?” He looks sheepish. “Oh, yeah. I just. Gotta deal with this on my own, you know. Um.” He scratches the back if his neck, as if unsure of how to proceed, what to tell them and what part of his story he needs to keep to himself. 

 

To be fair, this is the first time Seungkwan’s ever had to deal with a situation like this, too. He places what he hopes is a comforting smile across his face, and nudges Chan to say something. He was always the better one at dealing with things directly.

 

He doesn’t disappoint. 

 

“Go do what you need to do,” Chan says simply. “We won’t keep you.”

 

“Good luck,” Seungkwan follows his lead, curling his hands around his cup of coffee, long gone cold. 

 

“Thank you,” Vernon grins, lopsided, and shoves on his scuffed shoes, taking his freshly laundered clothes from Chan with another wobbly smile. It a bit crooked, but it’s still very much genuine, a trait that Seungkwan is beginning to associate with him, so his and Chan’s worry is eased just a bit. 

 

“Vernon?” Seungkwan says, tentatively. 

 

The boy’s hand stills over the doorknob, hesitant, voice hoarse. “Yeah?”

 

“You can come by anytime, you know.” Seungkwan picks at the skin between his nails. “We won’t pry unless you want us to. You look like you need a friend.”

 

“And luckily for you,” Chan interrupts, “we’re in need of a friend. I’m going a little stir-crazy, seeing only Seungkwan’s ugly mug every day.”

 

“Hey, you  _ brat, _ ” Seungkwan puts Chan in a light chokehold, to which the other boy chokes out a whispered, “Save me, please.” 

 

At this, Vernon smiles, and inexplicably, Seungkwan feels something unfurl in his chest. In this moment, at this particularly point in the universe, if this was a drama, the narrator would cut in to say that they felt connected: him and Chan and Vernon. The three of them. The start of something beautiful. Somewhere, in the stars, in the fabric of the universe, they would say, is the point in time where these three fates become irrevocably entangled.

 

(A friendship unlike any other.)

 

But this isn’t a drama, and so all that happens is that Vernon agrees, and Seungkwan and Chan fuss over him a little bit more before turning him loose, scrawling their address on his palms and on his phone, just in case. Seungkwan has a feeling that Vernon’s just that kind of person, someone with his head in the clouds and a fervent need for somebody to drag him back down onto the ground once in a while.

 

“You better come back,” Seungkwan hollers from his door as Vernon begins to walk away, towards the corner. “Chan and I have no idea how to cook. We’re going to starve if you don’t!”

 

“You idiot, you’re going to scare him away, acting like that.” Chan punches him in the arm lightly, smiling as he waves goodbye to Vernon for the 100th time. Seungkwan wonders how many times Vernon’ll turn back and wave to them. It seems to be every two seconds, and the spot Seungkwan’s just vacated in his heart for the boy swells with each crooked smile Vernon gives them, tuft of hair flying in the wind as he turns back yet again. 

 

“Nonsense,” he sniffs as he closes the door. “I couldn’t scare him away even if I wanted to.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm here on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/swimnfooIs) if u wanna give me a holler


End file.
